Goodbye My Almost Lover
by Isleia
Summary: Tony has to say it, so he visits the only people who will listen. Angst.


Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or it's characters, yadda, yadda, so on and so forth. I do own the plot (if you can call it one).

Warning: Mention of a male/male relationship. Nothing explicit. Angst.

AN: My first NCIS fic. I could have used a different fandom (one I've done before), but NCIS was the first thing that came to mind. Written at 4am and unbetaed. I don't care if there are mistakes, this fic was meant as a personal vent. If you want to know the details, they're listed at the end.

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**Goodbye My Almost Lover**

**By Isleia**

It was normal for people to dislike cemeteries. They were empty and silent, which made them a little creepy. However, it was the memories that kept most away. The day you lost someone; a friend, a family member, a lover. No one wants to revisit those kinds of memories, no matter how much they miss the deceased. For many, it hurt too much to remember the memories of them.

Tony was no different.

He didn't know Shannon or Kelly; they died long before he ever met Gibbs. Even so, he believed this to be the most appropriate way of letting go. That was what people did at cemeteries, right? Let go?

"Hey, it's Tony again."

He had been coming to their graves for several years now, but he always made sure to visit when none of their real family members did. How could he explain away this?

"I know I was here a few months ago, but this is really important. I don't want to just stop coming and have you wondering why, wouldn't be very nice of me."

When he first came here, he wasn't sure what to say. He started with simple things like who he was and why is was there and so on. Over time it got easier and it felt like, in a way, that he knew them.

"I want you to know that I most likely won't be coming by anymore. It hurts too much. I know I never knew either one of you, but I feel like I'm taking something that doesn't belong to me. Kinda like… well, you already know."

He knew that he was just talking to tombstones, but it almost felt like they were standing in front of him. He could kind of see it too; Kelly would be confused, not quite understanding what he was trying to say, while Shannon would have her hands on her hips and a Gibbs-like glare that said "Spit it out!"

"Okay, I know, I'm babbling. Any who… I can't do it anymore. I can't keep hoping and believing that he'll remember because after all this time, _years_, he still doesn't…"

He could still imagine both of them there, staring him down. Tony was having trouble with that mental image so he began shifting from foot to foot.

"I know I promised both of you that I'd look after him and I still will! That has yet to change! But… I'm sure he'll find someone else to… care about that way…"

He'd only spoken the L word a few times to Shannon and Kelly, but that was when he still had hope. He'd been slowly losing it over the years and now it seemed that hope was finally lost.

"So, please, don't be angry. I tried, I really tried, but you two are still his only loves. I could never compare. Not before and not now. I guess what I'm saying is…"

He couldn't look at their graves anymore, he felt guilty doing so. Like he was committing some taboo by doing so or, more like, he didn't feel worthy of looking.

"I give up. I'm not important enough to be remembered, so how could he ever… love me? Did he ever? I love him, I know I do, but Jet… well, you know how Jethro is; he just expects you to know or some such nonsense."

He didn't think he'd cry, especially since he wasn't here to mourn, but it was hard to ignore the hot tears running down his cheeks. He let them fall, not caring who saw. He had to get it all out before he completely caved.

"I just don't know anymore. I really don't, you know? I wish there was someway of knowing what to do next, but the only people who could tell me are you two and, well, your dead."

Tony quickly glanced around, taking notice of the older woman he had passed on his way over. It looked like she'd been there awhile, yet it looked like all she was doing was staring at the grave before her, silent. Of course, she was a good fifty or so yards away, so it was a little hard to tell exactly what she was doing. He couldn't help but wonder how often she came here and who it was she visited.

He remained silent for a time, taking in the scenery. Trees were scattered around in the too green grass lawn with varies types of tombstones and grave markers. He saw the usual angels and crosses, as well as the epitaphs with father, husband, mother, wife, son or daughter etched in.

He remembered one epitaph in particular; it belonged to a little girl of only ten. Carolina Hilly; she'd died from some kind of disease. At least, that was what he believed from her epitaph. It read: Could she too soon escape this world of pain, or could eternal life too soon begin? It was sad, yet beautiful. Would he have something like that when he died?

Would anyone even visit, like he was doing now? Tony realized that he'd like the company, even if it were a stranger.

"I guess I'll just go now, my mind can't really focus anymore. Course, that's normal nowadays. I think Jet is getting tired of having to head slap me every five minutes. I am too."

Tony kissed his fingers and pressed them against the carved names. He did this every time, hoping that they felt it wherever they were now. Stepping back, he glanced at their names once more.

"Next time Jethro comes by, tell him goodbye for me since I can't. He wouldn't understand if I did anyway… Farewell, ladies."

Turning away, he made sure to wipe away what tears were left on his face. As he got into his car, he couldn't help but glance one more time at their graves.

"Goodbye."

With that, he left, feeling lighter than he did before.

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AN: I really needed to write this and I'll tell you why.

I've been having a really rough time for the past year or so. I've been unemployed for the longest time which added onto my growing frustration and depression.

At one point, my mom and I had to move out of the place we rented because the owner was selling it; we had to find a new place in a month's time. We'd lived there for fourteen years and all the sudden we had to get out.

During that month I got extremely depressed. I'd never been that depressed before and let's just say it scared me shitless. I don't scare easily, but that did. It bothered me for a few weeks after.

A few months into our new place, my frustrations had hit an all time high. I was getting pissed at everything and everyone. I decided to go and visit my grandpa and vent. It was easy to do considering he's been dead and buried for fifteen years.

Many things that Tony said are things that I said to my grandpa. The lines "I give up. I'm not important enough to be remembered…" and "I just don't know anymore. I really don't, you know? I wish there was someway of knowing what to do next, but the only people who could tell me are you two and, well, your dead." are what I said to him. There was an old woman there too.

I felt better after talking to him and I was better for it… until a few days later.

Fourth of July weekend came and my youngest cat, Kané (con-ay), wasn't looking so good. He'd been diagnosed with lymphoma (cancer) over a year ago, so he was already sick, but his medicine was keeping it at bay and even in remission. However, he'd stopped eating for over two days and wouldn't eat no matter what we did.

On the fifth, we brought him to the vet and put him down. It hurt so much and I hadn't cried like that since my grandpa died fifteen years earlier. I'm still mourning his death now.

I cried out all my frustrations to my mom and she cried with me. She realized that when she came home mad from work, it was making me feel even worse. I never realized that until she said it, but she said she'd make sure to stop "bringing work home" with her and to stop nagging me about getting a job when I've _been_ applying to places left and right (I usually apply to at least three to five places _a week_).

I was randomly listening to music when "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy came on and I started typing nonstop. Once I was finished, I felt better. Hopefully my bad luck doesn't strike twice in such a short amount of time.

Needless to say, I had to get it all out and this was what came of it.

Xtra AN: There wasn't a grave of a ten year old at the area of the cemetery my grandpa is at (he's buried next to military veterans). Caroline Hilly is actually the name on a grave I saw up in Alaska that had that very epitaph written on it. She was over fifty when she died. The ten year old was made up in honor of my cat that lived for ten years. R.I.P. Kané 4/1/2000-7/5/2010


End file.
